
Class PRfM?7 

Book .?3 3T5 4 

l?37 

DOBELL COLLECTION 



BEATRICE OF FERRARA. 



&C. 6cc. 






BEATRICE OF FERRARA 



a Cragic Drama, 



IX THREE ACTS. 



"PI u w Ke/ft" & *~^ ^ p ^ U ~^~ e - 



LONDON : 



EFFINGHAM WILSON, 88, ROYAL EXCHANGE. 



1837. 







£05449 
'15 



LONDON : 

Maurice and Co., Fenchurch Street. 






This Play is an attempt to adapt One in a Thou- 
sand (by the Author of Richlieit and Darnley) to 
the stage. 

In offering it (together with a few early attempts 
at poetry) to the perusal of a small circle of friends, 
whose kindness and partiality have induced them to 
take an interest in its success, I feel an apology is 
due to the Author of the highly dramatic work from 
the pages of which it is constructed, for the imperfect 
manner in which the subject has been treated, in my 
anxiety to witness the beautiful creation of that 
gentleman's fancy, — the Italian exile, — embodied on 
the stage. 

A. H. P. 

March 1837. 



DRAMATIS PERSONS. 



Henry the Fourth, King of France. 

The Duke of Mayenne, Head of the League. 

The Marquis of St. Real. 

The Count St. Aubin. 

Albert de Wolfstrom, a German Knight in the service of 
Mayenne. 

Armandi, an Italian Perfumer, attached to the Court of Catha- 
rine. 

Marcel, Attendant on Beatrice of Ferrar a. 

Lewis, Page to Aubin. 

Marco, Servant of St. Real. 

Leaguers, Guests, Dancers, Knights, Src. 

^Tnz Duchess of Montpensier, Sister of Mayenne. 

The Lady Elgenia Demenancourt, Ward of Mayenne. 

Beatrice of Ferrara, an Italian Princess, an exile at the Court 

of France. 

Attendants, Ladies, eye. 

Time, 1589. Scene, Paris and St. Cloud. 



BEATRICE OF FERRARA. 



ACT I. 

SCENE I, 

Interior of an Inn. or Hostelry, near the gates 
of Paris. 

Enter Marco, the Count St. Aubin, and a Page, with 
four or fire Attendants. 

MARCO. 

"Welcome, ooble Count, welcome to Paris. 
I'll to my master : for all the live-long day 
He paces in his chamber, — ever asks 
If I am sure his letter reached the camp ? 
I vow it did ; and then he swears again 
M It never did ! '* for if it had, Sir Count. 
You'd have been here ere dawn of day.. 

B 



2 BEATRICE OF FERRARA. [Act I. 

AUBIN. 

He's wrong. 
I have obeyed his summons : tell him so. 

MARCO. 

I will, my lord, I will. He'll be right glad 

To hear you are arrived : I'll hasten to him. 

[Exit Marco, 
aubin (to the Page). 

Hast thou no tidings yet of that wild boy, 

Leonard di Monti ? I saw him last 

Midst my retainers, ere we passed the gate, 

And was about to call him to my side ; 

But suddenly Bartholdo spoke to me. 

PAGE. 

There is one, my lord, who swears he saw 
The Page amidst us, as we entered here ; 
And that he darted off, as though in haste, 
Along a by-street, as he thought, unseen. 

AUBIN. 

'Tis very strange ! I told him that I should 

Require his aid and presence while in Paris. 

Let him be sought. [Exeunt all except the Page. 

Till his return, go you 
And take his place. Keep watch beside the gate 
Of the Hotel de Guise : should you behold 



Scene I.] BEATRICE OF FERRARA. 3 . 

Demenancourt's fair daughter quit the house, 

Inform me on the instant. Away : make speed. 

[Exit Page. 

Enter the Marquis St. Real. 

Cousin St. Real, I attend your summons ; 
And, by my faith. I will not Paris quit 
Until Duke Mayenne tells me that you are 
As free to leave this city as myself. 
On what pretence is it he keeps you here ? 

ST. REAL. 

In sooth I cannot tell, unless he fears 
My joining Henry's forces at St. Cloud. 
Hearing the King was there encamped, I sought 
Mayenne's safe-conduct and King Henry's leave 
To freely enter Paris, or the camp, 
And side with him whose cause should seem most just, 
Either the League, or Henry of Navarre : 
Then for that purpose was approaching here, 
When I, and 'bout a score of my retainers, 
Were suddenly surrounded by a troop 
Of men, wearing the green scarf of the League, 
In number full two hundred. We, of course, 
Could offer no resistance. I produced 
Mayenne's safe-conduct, but 'twas set at nought. 

b 2 



4 BEATRICE OF FERRARA. [Act 1. 

Since I have been in Paris, I in vain 
Have daily sought an audience with Mayenne. 
The Duchess of Montpensier tries her arts 
And wiles to win me over to the League. 

AUBIN. 

This is another of that woman's deeds, 
That crafty woman, ever at her work, 
Ever intriguing in some busy scheme. 
She knew full well, that once a prisoner here, 
E'en should she fail to gain you to the League, 
She could prevent your serving on the side 
Of Henry of Navarre. By heaven ! St. Real, 
Duke Mayenne shall release you in this hour. 
I know him well ; and, Leaguer though he be, 
No man his plighted word holds half so dear. 
I'll urge your instant liberty. 

ST. REAL. 

Aubin, 
Is 't true Eugenia Demenancourt 
Is here a prisoner ? 

AUBIN. 

Ay, cousin, true : 
The League still has her in its power. 
The Hotel de Guise, the proud Leaguist's home, 



Scene I.] BEATRICE OF FERRARA. 

Is now the prison of Demenancourt ; 
Where, treated with the courtesy that's due 
To her high rank and station, she remains 
At best an honourable captive. 

REAL. 

Surely thou hast but to acquaint Mayenne 
Of her late father's promise to yourself, 
And he will give her up to you at once. 

AUBIX. 

I have done more : — the instant that I heard 

The step which he had taken, I required 

The orphan lady of Demenancourt 

Should in that horn* be placed within the hands 

Of Henry of Navarre, he being our King. 

After evasion and delay, Mayenne 

Chose to inform me that the throne of France 

Was vacant, a decree of the Sorbonne 

And Parliament of Paris having so willed ; 

That the same high authorities had made 

My Lord Duke Mayenne, mark ye, no less than 

Lieutenant- General of the kingdom; 

And that, therefore, none other for the time 

Could be the guardian of Denienancourt. 

He also hinted, that her father's death 



6 BEATRICE OF FERRARA. [Act J. 

To the lady made the thought of marriage, 
For a time at least, impossible. 

ST. REAL. 

The loss of such a father 
Cannot be all forgotten in a day. 

AUBIN. 

Tush, tush ! you do forget Eugenia 
Is the wealthiest heiress in all France, 
Young, and cousin, you know how beautiful ; 
For faith ! you almost made me jealous once. 

ST. REAL. 

Go to ! go to ! Nay, could my hand or word 
Advance your marriage but a single day, 
Both at your service you would ever find. 
When gave I cause for jealousy? 

AUBIN. 

Tush! 
I did but say I might have jealous been, 
Had I not known you better. There was a time, 
When our late royal Cath'rine held her court, 
You ever shunned the bright eyes and sweet lips 
That sought to lead you captive through 
The flowery and the tangled paths of love, 
To take your place beside Eugenia's feet, 



Scene L] BEATRICE OF FERRARA. 

ST. REAL. 

If you will press me to it, Philip, because 
She was the only pure thing present ; 
And I oft thought she might feel hurt to see 
Count Philip Aubin, her affianced lord, 
Neglect and slight her, and forsake her presence 
For the vile follower of a base Queen. 
Ay, even so ! Nay, frown not on me ; 
I speak of Beatrice of Ferrara. 

AUBIN. 

Beatrice of Ferrara ! Why, cousin, 

I knew not that my mien toward her 

Had drawn the marked attention that you say. 

But let it pass : what were we speaking of? 

Oh, I remember ; the League's fair piis'ner. 

She is an heiress, a right noble heiress ; 

And Mayenne knows her hand is a brave prize 

For the first man in France : is it not so ? 

And he who serves him best in his base scheme, 

Shall have the hand and fortune of his ward, 

Spite of her father's plighted word to me. 

ST. HEAL. 

But, Aubin, Eugenia will ne'er consent. 

AUBIN. 

Oh, Heal, little dost thou know the sex I 



8 BEATRICE OF FERRARA. {Act 1. 

They are light as a dry leaf borne about 
Upon the breath of every wind that blows : 
She whom they call the best, is firm in nought 
But her caprices. Now mark me, cousin. 
Within these few days I have seen Eugenia : 
I sought an interview, and was received 
By Mayenne, who without a scruple granted me 
An audience, as be said, with his young ward. 
'Twas all fair seeming till we met, when she, 
Calmly and eoldly, refused to ratify 
The sacred promise that her father made. 
Ay, do you hear, refused, — rejected me ; 
Told me she did not, could not, love me. 
Enter the Page. 
page (aside.) 
My lord, the Lady Demenancourt 
Hath quitted the Hotel de Guise but now : 
I traced the noble maid to the hotel 
Of the exiled Princess of Ferrara. 

AUBIN. 

Cousin, 
I haste to Duke Mayenne. Within this hour 
We meet at the Hotel de Guise. Farewell. 

[Exit Aubin and Page on one side, St. Real 
on the other. 



Seen* 11.] BEATRICE OF FERRARA. 9 

SCENE II. 

Chamber in the Hotel of Beatrice op Ferrara. 
Beatrice is discovered, magnificently attired in 
the costume of the period (1589), at a table, seated 
and writing. Marcel and a Page are in attend- 
ance. 

Beatrice. 
Art sure, Marcel, that my arrival here, 
And my long absence, unsuspected are 
By all ? 

MARCEL. 

Most sure, sweet lady. There are none 
Of all the nobles who were wont to crowd 
The galleries of your hotel, but now 
Are daily sighing for the loss of one, 
"Whose wit and beauty were their constant theme. 
Lady, they think the fever, that has raged 
With such malignant fury in this town, 
Hath number d you amongst its victims. Of all 
Your favour'd friends, the fair Demenancourt 
Hath been most forward in inquiry ; — nay, 
Day after day hath importuned me much 
To gain admittance, as she thought, to you. 



10 BEATRICE OF FERRARA. [Act I. 

Beatrice {to the Page.) 
Is the Lady Demenancourt aware, 
As I desired, that I am here, and now 
Will see her ? 

PAGE. 

Most noble mistress, it is so : 
Your pleasure to the lady has been told. 
Upon the instant she will be here. 

BEATRICE. 

Well. 
Go, wait without. [Exit Page. 

{To Marcel.) Knowest thou Armandi? 
One of the many of the frivolous train 
Of idle and dependant followers, 
That our late Catherine de Medicis 
From Italy brought with her here ? He 's famed 
For drugs and perfumes, jewels, costly silks — 

marcel. 
And poisons, lady. There 's not a poison, 
Or deadly drug, but, tell Armandi 
That by your dearest friend you would 'twere ta'en, 
He names his price ; and in a few short days 
That friend no longer breathes. 

BEATRICE. 

Marcel, 'tis false ! 



Scene II.] BEATRICE OF FERRARA. 1 ] 

MARCEL. 

Were our good Catherine but alive, most like 
She soon would make you think 'twere otherwise. 
He served her bidding ever in her life, 
And she protected him. There are, that say- 
That Catherine owes her thanks to Armandi, 
Touching the matter of her hasty death. 

BEATRICE. 

' Tis false ! Send for this dreaded Armandi. 
Tell him the Princess of Ferrara 
Wishes to purchase some most costly robes 
And jewels — 

Enter Page. 

PAGE. 

The Lady Demenancourt. 

\_Exeunt Marcel and Page. 

Enter Eugenia Demenancourt. 

EUGENIA. 

O, Beatrice ! and do we meet again ! 
Forgive my childish joy, my poor heart beats 
With such wild haste. I thought some bitter foe 
Taught you forgetfulness and cold dislike 
Toward one, who through the sunny hours that we 
Have been such dear companions — 



1 



12 BEATRICE OF FERRARA. [Act I. 

BEATRICE. 

Nay, nay. 

EUGENIA. 

I felt you had forgot me, cast me off 
In the hour I needed most thy guiding hand. 
Like as some petted child, with costly care, 
Will for mere fancy cherish a weak flower 
That claims a warmer clime than our cold north, 
Till with faded splendour 'tis about to shine, 
As if in memory of its distant home ; 
And then, abandoned by that fost'ring hand 
To the blighting kiss of the midnight breeze, 
It droops ; — and, ere the morning sun its beams 
Throws o'er the flower that it had taught to bloom, 
Its dead leaves rustle in the chilling wind. 

BEATRICE. 

The raging fever, that so nearly laid 
Your Beatrice in a cold, early grave, 
They told me was contagious. Therefore I 
Forbade your presence in my dreary house. 
Why should you risk your valued precious life 
For such a one as I am "? 

EUGENIA. 

Oh, Beatrice ! 



Scene II.] BEATRICE OF FERRARA. 13 

Thank heaven that you are safe. What a loss 
Would thy sad death have proved to one, who knows 
And loves thee as I do ! 

BEATRICE. 

How few do that. 
I hold the sweetest triumph of ray life, 
The winning from you your esteem and love ; 
Proving I was not the base thing you thought, 
And teaching you to know me as I am. 

EUGENIA. 

In truth, I never thought you base. 

BEATRICE. 

Nay, nay. 
Surrounded as you saw me by the vile, 
The profligate, the idle, and the vain ; 
Beheld me mingling day and night with them ; 
Ay, saw the seducers and the seduced 
Of a corrupted and plague-tainted court 
Kneeling and worshipping the pretty idol 
You see before you now : — thought you not then, 
In your own secret heart, that 'twas with joy 
I bore it all '? 

EUGENIA. 

No, Beatrice, never. 



14 BEATRICE OF FERRARA. [Act 1. 

Where'er I went, yours was the only name, 
Free from a stain, untalked of in that court. 
Not even the foolish gaudy flutterers, 
Whose vanity is fed with their own lies 
Against our sex, dared but to whisper 
You smiled on them. 

BEATRICE. 

They dared not ! they dared not ! 
No ; there is not a minion in all France 
Who 'd dare to cast a slur upon my name. 
Not because cowardly falsehood is their fear. 
Were it as gross and glaring as the sun : 
Not it ; but that the braggarts know I hold 
Beatrice of Ferrara has the right, — 
Ay, and as fair a right as any man, — 
That where her dearest honour is assailed, 
She may revenge herself as best she can. 

EUGENIA. 

Oh, Beatrice ! 

BEATRICE. 

Heed me, Eugenia. 
When, fearing evil in my native land, 
With fallen fortunes seeking Catherine's court, 
The Queen received me, and, to do her right, 



Scene II.] BEATRICE OF FERRABA. 15 

Showed me unvarying tenderness through life, 
For years I lived in that corrupted court. 
Many a man was there who sought my love, 
In marriage, few; others with lighter vows; — 
So deep and thorough was the great contempt 
Within my heart I felt for the corrupt, 
Vain, idle butterflies of that bad place, 
That soon my scorn extended to the sex, 
And for awhile I vowed that I should ne'er 
Give thought to any man on all the earth. 

EUGENIA. 

Until you met Aubin. Nay, Beatrice, 

I little thought your proud Italian blood 

Would e'er have brooked your stooping thus to seek 

Or court the love of any man. 

BEATRICE. 

Goto! 
Oh, wrong me not. I have not loved unsought, 
Nor called upon my head the bitter shame 
Of being despised for courting him 
Who loved me not. My blood may be all fire ; 
Yet in my heart there is a hidden well 
Of icy pride, to cool the burning flame 
Of my mad love, — ay, till it froze in death, — 



16 BEATRICE OF FERRARA. [Act I. 

Before the name I bear should e'er be stained 

By weakness, pitiful and poor as that. 

No : he sought and wooed me ; worshipped the earth 

Whereon I trod ; lived at my very feet ; 

Fed on my smiles, — till the proud heart was won. 

Ambition came and opened wider views, 

And Aubin's vanity was piqued to think 

The wealthy heiress of Demenancourt 

To such high merit as his own, so dull 

Could prove. 

EUGENIA. 

If 'twas ambition swayed him — 

BEATRICE. 

Nay, hear me out : your wealth, Eugenia ! 

His eyes were dazzled at your boundless wealth. 

If there be truth on earth, he loved me once ; 

But love is lost, gone, and forgotten soon 

With man, if ambition or interest 

Point out his god and idol — wealth ! 

The banished Princess of Ferrara, 

An exile comparatively poor, 

Though once his idol, was in an hour forgot, 

When he perceived your beauty, wealth, and rank. 

Oh, blame me not, Eugenia, that I love. 



Scene II.] BEATRICE OF FERRARA. 17 

It is a tyrant, not a slave. The sun 

Will cease to shine, summer and winter, 

Aud night and day, iheir course forget, ere love 

Will want a wile to cheat poor woman's heart, 

To think her every idle wish a truth. 

It may be all in vain ; yet who is there 

That can dash out the last faint ling' ring flame. 

That on Hope's altar flickers yet ? 

EUGENIA. 

Alas! 
Aubin's cold and callous, selfish nature, 
Can never be endured by love like thine. 

BEATRICE. 

Thou know'st not all that I have borne ere now ; 
Thou know'st not all that love like mine can bear. 

EUGENIA. 

Reflect ye, Beatrice ; the voice of reason — 

BEATRICE. 

The voice of reason, and the voice of truth, 
Would from my hee*rt desire I banish him ; 
But then another voice will whisper yet 
Such sweet excuses for his greatest faults, 
Which, like as changing clouds upon the sky, 
Cast dark'ning shadows o'er the spot they pass, 

c 






18 



BEATRICE OF FERRARA. 



[Act /. 



Altering the aspect of our lovely earth : 
So feel I each excuse, by dear love framed, 
Casts an obscuring shadow on his deeds, 
Which will not suffer me to gaze on them, 
As if the sun of clear unbiassed thought 
Shone brightly 'fore my eyes. One effort more 
Will Beatrice of Ferrara make 
To save this man ; essay another trial ; 
Find but the means of truly serving him, 
Ay, truly and deeply : then if he prove 
Ungrateful, she will cast him off and die. 
Eugenia, St. Real is in Paris. 

EUGENIA. 

Alas, alas ! I know it, Beatrice. 
My heart tells me too well how I was loved. 
But since my father's most fatal promise, 
He shuns, forsakes the one he loved so well. 

BEATRICE. 

Go to. He thinks St. Aubin has your heart. 
Eugenia, were I but loved as you, 
Another day would see me far beyond 
My Lord Duke Mayenne's counsel or advice, 

EUGENIA. 

How mean you, Beatrice ? 



\_A pause. 



//.] BEATRICE OK FERRARA 19 

BEATRICE. 

This :--I would fly, 
Fly from the hateful yoke that threatens me. 

EUGENIA. 

Alas ! I know not how. With none to guide, 
How can I fly from out this dreadful place ? 
The city is beleaguered on all sides : 
Nay, I know not how — 

BEATRICE. 

By a thousand ways. 
There is nought to fear : I shall be with you. 

EUGENIA. 

Not yet, dear Beatrice, not yet : unless 
Most sharp necessity my flight shall urge. 

BEATRICE. 

When once they find that you reluctant are, 
They may take measures to prevent your flight. 

EUGENIA. 

I cannot think that they will urge me so. 
For in regard to Philip of Aubin, 
They ne'er will favour him ; the King has not 
A more devoted, or a truer man. 
And in regard to any other one, 
My father's dying promise to Aubin — 

c 2 



20 BEATRICE OF FERRARA. [Act I. 

BEATRICE. 

But you will never keep it, Eugenia *? 

EPGENIA. 

No, Beatrice, I would rather die. 

BEATRICE. 

Yet hear me : think of all that may occur. 
A thousand things may tempt Aubin to quit 
The royal party, and the Leaguers join : 
Your father's dying promise he may urge, 
Ay, may obtain the sanction of Mayenne. 
Oh, Eugenia! what wouldst thou then ? 

EUGENIA. 

Fly, 
Fly to the farthest corner of the earth, 
Ere I'd fulfil a promise, none of mine. 
Should that dread moment come, I do believe 
I shall not want in courage to oppose, 
E'en should they threaten to compel with force. 
Then will I counsel take from none but you : 
Guide me as seems most fit ; and, Beatrice, 
Bather than give my hand to one I hate, 
I'll fly— 

BEATRICE. 

Write to me, write me but five words, — 



■ 

1 



Seem 11.] BEATRICE OF FERRARA. 21 

" Come to me with speed ;" send it by your page 
When you assistance need, and do not doubt 
But I will find the surest means for flight, 
E'en were you at the very altar's step. 

Enter Marcel. 

Well? 

MARCEL. 

The jeweller, Armandi, waits without. 

EUGENIA. 

Fare ye well, Beatrice. 

BEATRICE. 

Let him enter. 

[Exit Marcel. 
Should it so happen, you will write *? 

EUGENIA. 

I will. 
I shall not fail. My Beatrice, farewell. [Exit. 

Enter Armandi. (Beatrice seats herself.) 

ARMANDI. 

Enchanted and most honoured are my eyes 
Once more to gaze upon thee, noble lady. 
Most chaste and fair, I had with sorrow heard 
The frightful fever — 



22 BEATRICE OF FERRARA. [Act I. 

BEATRICE. 

Go to, Armandi. 
Keep your dull nonsense for the fools it suits. 
Matters more weighty cause your presence here. 

ARMANDI. 

Most beautiful of the beautiful, speak : 
Your words are ever law to Armandi. 

BEATRICE. 

When followed by the precious seal of gold, 
I know they are. Now hear me. I — I wish — 
I wish — 

ARMANDI. 

You wish, perhaps, to see some friend, 
And now require Amandi's influence, 
His magic influence, to bring this friend 
Into your presence ? 

BEATRICE. 

Out on thee, villain ! 
Whom dost thou take me for, pitiful slave ! 
I wish — I wish — 

ARMANDI. 

Perhaps you wish to see some friend no more. 
Perhaps thou wouldst Armandi' s influence 
Should silently and secretly remove, 



U.] BEATRICE OF FERRARA. 

Lady, from out your sight, one who has beef) 
Long an intruder there, and troubles you ? 

BEATRICE. 

Perhaps I do. 

ABMASDl. 

Then am I right at last : 
And, most fair lady, thou hast nought to do 
But name the person, manner, and the time, 
And there remains no more. Yet must I hint 
Tis rather costly work, if he, or she, 
Must quickly disappear. Let it he slow. 
And quietly, lady ■ we run less risk. 

BEATRICE. 

No: 
It must in one short moment do its work : 
And with such powerful and unfailing speed, 
That no physician, be he e'er so skilled, 
Can find the art sufficient to undo 
The deed that has been done. 

ARMANDI. 

It can be so ; 
But 'tis too difficult and dangerous. 
Suspicion would be roused upon a death 
So violent, and most sudden in its means. 



24 BEATRICE OF FERRARA. [Act I. 

There is a poison, — aqua tophana, 

So calm and tranquillizing in effect, 

So slow in work, that doubt and fear both sleep. 

Wait you but patient for a month, — a week ; 

Give it but time, and it — 

BEATRICE. 

You heed me not. 
Yet say, Armandi ; let me hear how 'tis 
These deeds are managed. I would judge. 

ARMANDI. 

Lady, 
Though thou art far above me, yet I claim 
The blessing of being born in the land 
With one so beautiful, — our Italy. 
Knowing how dearly you were once beloved 
By my late honoured and most royal Queen, 
Although you often frowned upon the joys 
Of her voluptuous and corrupted court, 
Yet, for the love I bear her memory, 
I will without reserve, lady, reveal 
How best your purpose may effected be. 
See here. [Armandi produces and opens a very 

small golden casket. * 

The water in the purest fountain 



Scene II] BEATRICE OF FERRARA. 25 

In our own Italy, looks not more clear 

Or bright than this ; no odour to be found, 

To the eye no hue, to the lip no taste ; 

Ay ; and yet, like many another thing, 

With all this seeming pure simplicity, 

There lurks within its hidden nature 

Death in its slowest, deadliest form, — 

Poison most fatal, and most famed. Three drops 

Poured in the wine-cup of the wassailer, 

And ta'en unheeded in his revelry, 

Will cause that slow and gradual decay, 

Which at the end of one short year will leave 

A clod its victim in his mother earth. 

Lady, the draught need but increased be, 

To shorten its sure period by one half; 

Or shorter still, — to a few weeks, or days, 

Let Armandi but know — 

Beatrice (hastily). 

It will not do, 
It will not do. Hast thou none other means '? 

ARMANDI. 

Many, most beautiful ; but in good sooth 
I crave your patience : a rash and heedless 
Youth could scarcely equal you in haste. 



26 BEATRICE OF FERRARA. [Act I. 

Our art has long been tasked to make the means 
Of death at once so slow, so secret, and so sure, 
That we can free us of our enemies 
Without suspicion and unseen. I have 
A flower, a rose of wondrous art and taste, 
So like sweet nature's blooming bud, that keen 
And sharp must be the watchful eye of man, 
That could detect the cheat : were it but placed 
In a fair beauty's bosom for an hour, 
Within a week both health and life would fly. 
Lady, I own those famous fatal gloves, 
So exquisitely wrought in thread of gold, 
Once worn by a queen, who since is dead. 

BEATRICE. 

You weary me, Armandi. I said I wished 
Means more sure and quick. 

ARMANDI. 

Your patience, lady. 
[Produces another phial from the casket. 
This liquid once tasted, all is o'er, 
Rapid as the flash of your own dark eye, 
Of the heart the fire, of the mind the life 
At once extinguish, and at once expire. 
Lady, I would not give that deadly dose 



Scene II.] BEATRICE OF FERRARA. 27 

To one of note or rank, for a less sum 
Than twenty thousand golden Henrys down, 
Though it is scarcely worth a thousand crowns. 
But 'tis so quick and clear in its effect, 
So marked the traces that it leaves behind, 
That the physician were a fool who doubts 
The cause of death in him that drinks it. 

BEATRICE. 

Give — 
Give it me — [Beatrice snatches the phial from linn. 
Is there here enough to kill ? 

ARM AND I. 

Ay, to slay an army, lady. But what, 
What mean ye ? what would ye with it * 

BEATRICE. 

The one for whom this poisonous drug is meant, 
Shall from my hand receive the cup it fills. 
Nought shall you risk. 

[Takes a ring from off her finger, and 
gives it to Armandi. 
There is a diamond, 
A costly jewel, worth one half your wealth. 
And now the poison's mine. 

ARMANDI. 

Ladv, ladv. 



28 BEATRICE OF FERRARA. [Act I. 

Thou art young, inexperienced, unprepared. 
These deeds require the calm unshaken hand, 
The unquivering lip and steady eye. 
Noble Beatrice, were you discovered, — 
The torture : then would you not betray me, 
Lady? 

BEATRICE. 

Howe'er I may contemn thee, man, 
Rest satisfied I never shall betray. 
I take and keep thy poison ; but no power 
Shall e'er compel me to reveal your name. 
Make thyself easy, man : I tell thee that 
If e'er one drop of this rank stuff 

Pass human lip, that lip will be my own. [yi pause. 
'Tis well to be prepared for all events : 
'Tis well to ever have at hand a sure 
And ready remedy for all the ills 
That wait upon this wretched life : 'tis well 
To hold the power to snatch ourselves away 
From out the grasp of dire and changing fate. 
And in the path I may be called to tread, 
When I no longer can endure its way, 
Then will I try another. 

ARM AND I. 

Far be it, 



Scene 11.] BEATRICE OF FERRARA. 29 

Gracious lady, if such your purpose be, 

Far be it from me to venture to oppose. 

Men think too much of death ; 'tis but to lose 

A few short hours from a long race 

Of pain and woe. Farewell, noble princess. 

Far oftener 'tis a mercy than a wrong : 

Men think too much of death. Farewell, lady. [Exit. 

BEATRICE. 

Heartless villain ! Heav'n knows thou holdest life 
Light enough in others. Mine, mine at last, 
Thou fatal drug ! How have I longed for thee, 
When in some heedless moment I have risked 
Discovery and ruin in the camp ! 
Rest next my heart, till Aubin calls me bride. 
Firm in myself, firm to myself, my fate 
I've sought : 'twas mine own deliberate act. 
I've risked all happiness for love, and now, 
When love seems lost, I tremble not to think 
My fate hangs on the die within my hand : 
And boldly will I cast it, let the chance 
Be what it may. The day is wearing fast. 
Within an hour I must be in the camp, 
Or Aubin will — 



30 BEATRICE OF FERRARA. [Act /. 

Enter Page. 

PAGE. 

The Count Philip St. Aubin. [Exit Page. 

Enter the Count St. Aubin. 

Beatrice {aside). 
Oh, fate, I am discovered ! All is lost ! 

aubin {aside). 
Eugenia gone ! Curse on the page : I thought 
That I should prove too late. A thousand pardons, 
Lady, for my intruding thus. These wars 
Have rendered it so long since — 

Beatrice {aside). 

I am safe. 
aubin. 
7 Tis full an age since — 

BEATRICE. 

My Lord Count Aubin, 
Your absence from this town has scarcely seemed 
To me so long, that I should wish it o'er. 

AUBIN. 

No right have I to murmur at your words : 
Yet, Beatrice, mayhap I can say that 
In my defence, which you will — 



Scene IL] BEATRICE OF FERKARA. 31 

BEATRICE. 

Never hear, 
Or for a moment listen to. Sir Count, 
I doubt not that you can defend yourself : 
I never yet knew man that could not do so, 
Save he were idiot, or one born dumb. 
If your accusing heart doth charge you now 
With falsehood, avarice, or ambition, 
Plead your own cause with it : no doubt "twill prove 
A judge most kind and lenient. Fare ye well. 
Matters of moment call me hence. I crave 
Your pardon, and thank you for the honour. 
This interview, Sir Count — 

AUBIN. 

Oh, Beatrice ! 
At least one moment stay. Let me but hear 
Once more that you are well and happy. 
I heard you had been ill, — ay, near to death. 

BEATRICE. 

Count St. Aubin, didst ever see me look 
More beautiful ? In good sooth, then, I was 
Most ill, — a victim to the fever here ; 
But well and happy now, if I did not 
Hear Henry's roaring cannon every day, 



32 BEATRICE OF FERRARA. [Act 1. 

And if my poor hotel were not so full 
Of visitors. 

AUBIN. 

And wilt thou say no more 
To Philip of Aubin, after what has 
Passed between us '? 

BEATRICE. 

I know of nothing, sir, 
That can have passed between us. Once or twice. 
In some mad fit of folly, or of wine, 
You vowed you loved Ferrara more thau life, 
Than rank, or wealth, or station : but, Sir Count, 
She took those vows, as she has often done 
A thousand others from as many men 
Brighter and nobler than the Count St. Aubin. 
As idle words which foolish men will speak 
To women foolish as themselves, for want 
Of better or more pleasant wit ; as words 
Which to a hundred others you have said, 
And to a hundred more will whisper yet, 
Who, heeding not, will, like myself, forget. 
Once more farewell, Sir Count. Speed with all haste 
To the Hotel de Guise ; or else the League 
May a most valiant convert lose. Farewell. 



Seem II] BEATRICE OF FERRARA. 33 

AUBIN. 

Nay, Beatrice, now at least you do me wrong : 
The League no convert claims in me. Mayenne 
Granted me entrance freely into Paris, 
On matters of great import to St. Real. 
Who is detained a prisoner by him here. 
I came to urge his liberty ; nought else : 
But to his Majesty will I adhere. 
So long as he and I both live. 

BEATRICE. 

Indeed ! 
Therefore the Count St. Aubin sent his page 
To act as spy upon a noble house, 
And watch the lovely prisoner in that place. 
Iffy lord, you traced her here : she's gone, and now 
Most like is entering the Hotel de Guise. 
Go : hearken to the golden arguments 
Which that most wily woman, Montpensiei . 
Can now hold out : haste ye to Mayenne's Duke, 
Lieutenant-General of the kingdom, 
Head of the League. Suppose he offer you 
The hand and fortune of Demenancourt ; 
Can you resist. Sir Count, can you resist '? 

ADBTN. 

Madam, my honour would forbid it. 



34 BEATRICE OF FERRARA. [Act I. 

BEATRICE. 

Ah! 
Honour, your honour, Count St. Aubin ? oh ! 

[Exit Beatrice. 

AUBIN. 

Now, by my soul and faith ! she angers me. 

What doth the woman mean ? I'll follow her. 

Nay, I forget my promise to St. Real. 

I'll hasten, as she bade me, to the Guise. [Exit. 



SCENE III. 

A Splendid Apartment in the Hotel de Guise. 

Enter the Duke of Mayenne and Madame 

DE MOKTPENSIER. 
MADAME. 

Nay, but — 

MAYENNE. 

Again thou hast been tampering, 
Wherein thou hadst no right to interfere. 
Why, what is this about the young St. Real ? 
Is it not bad enough that a rash boy, 
Aumale, should lose a battle at Senlis, 
Without your trifling with my honour thus ? 



Scene III.] BEATRICE OF FERRARA. 35 

MADAM K. 

Nay ! Duke of Mavenne — 

M AYENNE. 

Nay, my fair sister, 
It seems to me you have forgotten that 
My given word of honour, or safe-conduct, 
Throughout my life I've ever held most dear, 

MADAME. 

True, Charles of Mavenne. Thy safe-conduct 
Has never violated been by me. 
If a kind friend of mine did choose to help 
This young St. Real on his journey here, 
I have not been to blame. I do not doubt 
Within this hour St. Real will be here. 

MAYENNE. 

Within this hour he shall be free. No more 
Meddling or quibbling with my honour thus. 

MADAME. 

Speak calmly, Duke Mayenne : the Count St. Aubin 
Is now beneath thy roof. Oh, do not lose 
This golden opportunity ; but gain 
More than the battle of Senlis e'er lost. 

MAYENNE. 

Sav on : what hast thou done, what wouldst thou do ? 

d 2 



36 BEATRICE OF FERRARA. [Ac; 1. 

MADAME. 

What have I done, Mayenne ? Why simply thus ■ 
Hearing it said, St. Real had some thought 
Of seeking Henry's camp ere he came here, 
I hastened him upon his route, and brought 
My youthful Marquis safe a prisoner here. 
What will I do ? Why, if your gracious self 
Will only condescend to let me speak 
One little word to Real ere he goes, 
And if I do not find the means to make 
My pris'ner draw his sword and join the League, 
Why then, in God's name, you may talk to me 
Of honour and safe-conduct all your life. 

MAYENNE. 

Hush ! 

Enter the Count St. Aubin. 

Good morrow to ye, Count St. Aubin. 
Right glad was I to hear that yester-eve 
You had applied for a safe-conduct from us ; 
Doubting not that you were by this time tired 
Of consorting with those Huguenot boors, 
Yonder at St. Cloud. 

ST. AUBIN. 

Ay, 'twere a bold step, 



Scene J 1L] B E AT RICE O F F E R R A R A . 37 

After what has occurred, to seek a pass 

From my Lord Duke Mayenne. I fear you may 

Keep me a pris'ner with my cousin here. 

MAYENNE. 

Thy cousin. Count ? 

ST. ATJBIN. 

The Marquis of St. Real. 
MAYENNE. 

Made pris'ner in some late skirmish by us. 

ST. AUBIN. 

Skirmish ! my Lord Duke. No skirmish has there been 
In this bad business. I charge you, Duke Mayenne, 
To clear yourself from the base character 
Which this transaction has affixed on you. 

MAYENNE. 

Thou mak'st me angry, sir. 

ST. AUBIN. 

No cause for anger, 
If you are free from shame in this bad work : 
If it be otherwise, I put aside 
All the respect I owe to your high rank, 
And to the noble station which you hold : 
And this base matter 'gainst you shall I urge 
As noble to noble, and as man to man. 






38 BEATRICE OF FERRARA. [Act 1 

MADAME. 

Was ever the like heard ! Oh, heed him not, 
Brother of Mayenne, heed him not. The man 
Is mad, raving mad. 

ST. AUBIN. 

Not so mad, lady, 
Nor so foolish, from his purpose to be turned 
By sweet or angry words. 

MAYENNE. 

You are too bold. 
The capture of your cousin was unknown, 
Unauthorized,, unheard of by me, till 
This very day. 

ST. AUBIN. 

Then was I right. 

[Glancing at the Duchess. 

MAYENNE. 

Sir Count — 

Enter the Marquis St. Real. 
Marquis St. Real, you are free to come 
And go, till your safe-conduct has expired. 

ST. AUBIN. 

I crave your highness' pardon. I have urged 
This matter somewhat too boldly. 



Scene III.] BEATRICE OF FERRARA. 39 

M \y::\ne. 

Nay, nay ; 
We esteem you the more highly for it. 

MADAME. 

Marquis of St. Real, a word with you. 

[The Duchess and St. Real retire up the stage. 

MAYENNE. 

Count Aubin, the hand of a fair heiress 

Lies at this moment in a Leaguer's gift. 

Wilt have it ? wilt have her lands and lordships ? 

Wilt join the League, — the party of the faith ? 

It was her father's wish that you should wed : 

Your own honour, reputation, duty, 

Must surely urge you to it. 

ST. AUBIN. 

My Lord Duke, 
For a moment I would fain speak with you 
In this oriel here. 

[The Duke and St. Aubin retire up the stage ; 
the Duchess and St. Real come forward. 

MADAME. 

So, you will leave us,? 

ST. REAL. 

Madam, I must — 



40 BEATRICE OF FERRARA. [Act I. 

MADAME. 

Nay, there is one fair maid 
Who will weep to hear you're gone. 

ST. REAL. 

How mean you, 
Lady ? 

MADAME. 

Mark me, Marquis of St. Real. 

A woman 7 s eyes are keen : you are in love 

With Eugenia Demenancourt ; — nay, nay, 

She loves you. In the name of Mayenne, 

Lieutenant- General of the kingdom, 

I offer you her hand. Take it, St. Real : 

Spare her the pain of importunity, 

And make the loveliest woman in all France 

The happiest, protected by him she loves. 

Say not a word : your cousin waits you. 

I shall expect you back within the hour. - 

st. aubin (coming forward). 

St. Real ! — Your pardon, noble lady. 

[Exeunt Duke and Duchess on one side ; Aubin 
and Real on the other. 

END OF THE FIRST ACT. 



Scene L] BEATRICE OF FERRARA. 4\ 



ACT II. 

SCENE I. 

Interior of the tent of St. Aubin, at St. Cloud. 
The Count St. Aubin is discovered lying on a 
couch. Beatrice of Ferrara, disguised as the 
Page, under the assumed name of Leonard, is 
standing by the couch. 

AUBIN. 

And you were never at the outposts stopped, 
Leonard ? 

BEATRICE. 

Never. I passed and repassed 
Oft as I liked ; and I will pass again 
Their gates and walls, whene'er it pleases me. 
Count Philip Aubin, I hold the secret 
Of making me invisible at will ; 
And sharp must be the eye of Huguenot, 
Or Leaguer, that can spy me out, and stop 
Your page upon his road. 



42 BEATRICE OF FERRARA. [Act II. 

AUBIN. 

Ay, is it so ? 
Thine were a secret worth the learning, boy. 

BEATRICE. 

Easy to learn, but to practise, hard. 

First, had I of the sentry to beware 

As I came up to him ; then, if he proved 

A Huguenot Gascon, why I had to stop 

At least a quarter of an hour, to hear 

Of all the great exploits that he had done 

At Montcontour, at Jarnac, or elsewhere ; 

Then, seeming to believe the whole, to vow 

To my brave boasting soldier that I was 

The truant son of some great Huguenot Lord, 

On my way back to hear Du Mornay preach 

Against the Pope of Rome : then might I pass, 

Without a further question, on my way. 

If, otherwise, he were a fighting Swiss', 

I did but boldly cry, " What is your price ?" 

Slip the gold crowns into his open palm, 

And fearlessly walk on. When I appeared 

Before a gloomy soldier of the League, 

I flung a green scarf o'er my vest, and swore 

By the most holy mass I had gone out 



Seen* I.] BEATRICE OF FERRARA. 43 

To kill tlie King : — and so I would have done. 
Had I not on the toes of one of his 
Poor Polish puppies trod, and been dismissed 
From out the presence for that grave offence. 

AUBIN. 

Faith ! but thou art a brave boy, Leonard. 

BEATRICE. 

Oh, call me not a brave boy : thou art wrong ; 
Not a more arrant coward ever breathed. 
Ere see a battle fought, I vow I 'd die ; 
Fly at a skirmish, or else lag behind. 

AUBIX. 

Thou jestest, Leonard : the day will come, 
When, foremost in the battle, you will prove 
A brave and noble soldier yet. Tell me, 
What is the latest rumour in the camp ? 

BEATRICE. 

The latest rumour in the camp ? Why this : 
Not camp alone, but in the city too, 
'Tis rumoured far and wide, that a large dower 
And a fair lady's weak unwilling hand 
Will soon induce the noble Count Aubin 
To join the banner of the League. 



44 BEATRICE OF FERRARA. [Act IL 

aubin (rising from the couch). 

Ha, boy ! 

Enter St. Real. 
Oh, cousin ! I would crave a boon of thee. 
Your safe-conduct from Mayenne is not out : 
Wilt once more enter Paris for my sake ? 
Remind Eugenia of my claim to her ; 
Bid her to think upon her father's word ; 
And tell her I will ne'er resign that claim. 
Say, that in order to atone for aught 
In which I may have hurt her will, or heart, 
I'll change my course of living ; cast from me 
Those faults she seems to think so black ; 
So she will swear, some future day, to give 
Her hand to me, and keep her father's vow. 
You will do this for me '? 

ST. REAL. 

'Twould be in vain. 
She ne'er will give her heart and hand to one 
Who has not sought and gained — 

AUBIN. 

What ? her esteem, 
Or some such idle nonsense. Why, I tell you 



Scene I.] BEATRICE OP FERRARA. 45 

Fear, jealousy, revenge, and scorn, — ay, hate, 

Are nearer roads to woman's heart, than e'er 

Esteem or love : but disappoint her will ; 

Cry her opinions false, and pain her heart; 

Cross her caprices, and herself insult ; 

And yet 'tis but an easy thing to make 

Her thine, if you but pique her vanity. 

Why, good St. Real, she has told to me 

This idle tale a thousand times before : 

' Tis but the ringing of the same dull chime. 

But, cousin, go : promise amendment ; 

Your eloquence exert, vow constancy 

And so forth, for me. What ! will you not go ? 

ST. REAL. 

No, Philip — no, I will not ; for I love 
Eugenia too well to cheat her with a vow 
Or idle promise, in that light tone made. 
Nay, frown not on me, Philip of Aubin. 
Hear me, and never say by me you were 
Deceived. Aubin, 'tis not because I think 
How hopeless is your suit with Eugenia ; 
But that I feel my meeting her once more 
To me will prove most dangerous, and I 
More wretched shall be, without serving you. 



46 BEATRICE OF FERRARA. [Ad 11. 

AUBIN. 

By my faith, is it so ? Now do I see 
Somewhat more clearly how this all may end. 
Oh, cousin mine ! are you the favour'd knight ? 
Doubtless, doubtless they have been tempting you 
With offer of her hand. Ay, now I see it all. 
Sweet Madame de Montpensier hath engaged 
To urge your suit with her. 

ST. REAL. 

Right ; thou art right. 
Such offer has been made to me, Aubin. 

AUBIN. 

By heaven ! I thought so. On mine honour 
This is right good and merry. Eugenia, 
Poor timid child, will better service give 
To Mayenne's cause, than half a score of hot 
Unruly nobles, followers of the League. 
Why, the incarnate devil seize the man ! 
'Twas but this day he offered her to me, 
So I would join the League ; and now to you 
Upon the like condition. Back with you, — 
Baok, back to Paris, Marquis of St. Real ; 
Call in your troops and vassals from Senlis ; 
On with the green scarf of the League. Away ! 



Scene!.] BEATRICE OF FERRARA. 47 

The blessed union sign ; and morrow's dawn 

The sweetest heiress of all France 

Will give her hand to you. The cursed League 

Will rank thee midst its hypocrite 

And coward followers. Go ; violate 

Thy cousin's confidence. Oh, he will smile 

To think how gallantly you carried off 

His promis ? d bride. On my soul and honour 

'Twere a noble deed ! oh, 'twill rank thee high 

Amongst us libertines of court and capital ! 

ST. REAL. 

Thou art angry, Philip, and without cause. 

I thought you knew me better ; for through life 

Philip, have I not proved toward thee — 

AUBIN. 

What thou hast prov'd, I know : what you may prove, 
Must not be left to chance. I '11 take the means 
To guard myself against what seems most like 
To be your future conduct. Fare you well, 
Marquis of St. Real : I find 'tis time 
That I bestir myself. To-night I sup 
With his brave highness of Mayenne. 

ST. REAL. 

Philip— 



48 BEATRICE OF FERRARA. [Act II. 

AUBIN. 

Leonard, follow me. [_Exit Aubin. 

st. real (calling after him). 
Philip of Aubin ! 
[Beatrice, who has been listening at the bach of the 
stage, rushes forward, looks after Aubin, then 
speaks angrily to Real. 

BEATRICE. 

Well : thou hast let him go to wed, and break 

A noble woman's heart ; one who hath lov'd, 

Ay, loves thee still, and whom thou now wouldst doom • 

To lead a wretched, cheerless life of woe. 

Oh, of the misery, the sorrow, think ; 

The bitter reproach thou must answer for 

Upon thy dying day : — in sooth, because 

Thou dar'st not disregard some foolish claim, 

Some false, unworthy claim upon thine honour, 

Which priest and prelate, saint and martyr, 

And thine own heart, in the calm after-day 

Of life, will tell thee was no claim at all ! 

ST. REAL. 

Hie to thy master, boy ! 

beatrtce (very loud) 

Hie thou to him ! 



fern 1.] BFA1KK K OF FERRARA. 

Will thou not fly to Paris : — claim the hand 
The maid hath given thee ? Oh. answer me : 
I shall go mad ! 

~ A military March without) which gradually 

grows fahiter. 
bt. real [starting). 

Hark, to those sound* .' 
Beatrice rims to the door of the tent. 

Listen ! 
See. see : St. Aubin's troops are on the move : 
Within an hour they enter Pans ; then 
Wilt thou Eugenia lose for ever. 
I must not loiter here. Say. wilt thou aid 
In the escape of this fair girl to-night. 
From these most cursed nuptials? Oh ! hear me. 
Oft has she told me how she lov"d thee. \TTeep$> 

ST. REAL. 

Boy! 
What does this mean '? — this disguise — who art thou I 

BEATRICE. 

It matters not: wilt to the King ? Give him 
This letter ; say I crave the boon he owes 
To the exile Beatrice of Ferrara. 
He will direct thee, with a chosen troop, 

E 



50 BEATRICE OF FERRARA. [Act 11. 

To lie in ambus'li near a distant gate 

Of Paris, where, at midnight, thou shalt meet 

Eugenia, and No longer must I stay, 

Or Aubin will suspect me. Wilt thou swear 
To do in this as I have urged thee ? 

ST. REAL. 

Ay, 

I swear ! I swear ! 

BEATRICE. 

Farewell till midnight, then. 
[Exeunt, Beatrice right, and Real left. 



SCENE II. 

An Apartment in the Hotel de Guise. 

Enter, hurriedly, the Duke op Mayenne and Albert 
de Walfstrom. 

MAYENNE. ^ 

This night ? 

ALBERT. 

Ay, this night Henry of Navarre 
Hath sworn to enter Paris. 

MAYENNE. 

Is it so ? 



Scene It.] BEATRICE OF FERRARA. 51 

How heard you this ? 

ALBERT. 

But now from one, my lord, 
The League shall rank amidst her bravest chiefs 
In making vaunting Henry break his oath, — 
The Count St. Aubin. He, and a strong force 
Of armed retainers, within this hour 
Have entered Paris, their good services 
To tender to Duke Mayenne and the League. 

MAYENNE. 

I guess the bait that lured his Countship here. 
'Tis well. To-night the League's best partisans 
Sup here. Shall 1 postpone the ball ? 

ALBERT. 

Too late : 
An hour ago the guests were pouring in. 
'Twere better that the news of this attack 
Remain unknown and secret. 

MAYENNE. 

Well, Albert, 
Hie to thy post. Upon the first alarm 
Hasten to me. With Aubin' s aid we shall 
Annihilate these vaunting Huguenots. 

e 2 



52 BEATRICE OF FERRARA. [Act 11. 

ALHERT. 

My lord, here comes the noble Count. Farewell. 

[Exit Albert. 
Enter St. Aubin. 

MAYEKNE. 

Welcome to the League, Philip of Aubin. 

AUBIN. 

Duke of Mayenne, I come to claim the hand 
Of thy fair ward, Demenancourt. 

MAYENNE. 

In sooth, 
Thou art somewhat too pressing, Count of Aubin ; 
Thou hast not yet obtained, by gentleness 
And kind persuasion, the willing hand, 
To grant you which the maid reluctant seems. 

AUBIN. 

My Lord Duke, I should have thought that you 
Knew more of womankind : 'tis mere caprice, 
Mere vanity ; nought else. When once my wife, 
She '11 change — 

MAYENNE. 

No need see I for this mad haste. 

AUBIN. 

No need, Lord Duke ! Nay, but thou shalt see some. 



Scene II.] BEATRICE OF FEIUtARA. 53 

Thou 'st heard the oath that Henry swore this day, 
At midnight to be with thee, Duke Mayenne. 
Now hear me swear never to move a foot 
For thee or thine, — I grant my troops are here, 
And here they stay within these walls, and I 
Useless and unemployed, — till you consent 
I call Eugenia bride. 

MAYENNE. 

Thou wouldst not 
Wed her this night ? 

AUBIN. 

This hour, Duke of Mayenne. 
Tell me at once : is it thy will we wed 
This night ? 

MAYENNE. 

Since thou wilt have it so, it is. 
I will acquaint the lady, though most like 
; Twill grieve her much. Thou hast outwitted me. 
These most hurried nuptials are uncalled for. 
I'll send the lady to you. [Exit Mayenne. 

aubin. 

By my faith, 
Mayenne has met her in the corridor. 
He speaks to her — she starts— entreats — she weeps. 



54 



BEATRICE OF FERRARA. 



[Act II. 



He tells her I am here. By heaven ! she conies 
With most mighty speed. 



Enter Eugenia. She throws herself on her knees 
before St. Aubin. 

EUGENIA. 

Philip of Aubin. 
Once thou wert generous and kind of heart — 
Nay, nay ; hear me, I beseech thee. My life, 
My future happiness or misery 
Depend upon this moment. 

AUBIN. 

Eugenia . 
Rise. I entreat thee. 

EUGENIA. 

No, no, I will not. 
No : I cannot rise till thou hast heard me. 
Have I not used all the means I could devise, 
All forms of entreaty, yet no avail '? 
And now, at length, I kneel and here implore 
That you will spare us both a life of woe. 
Have I not often told you that I ne'er 
Can love you as a woman ought to do ? 
Have I not essav'd to fulfil mv father's word 



Scene II.] BEATRICE OF FERRARA . : } ,j 

In vain ? Honour and justice bid me say 

I never can — nay, that I ne'er will be 

Your wife. Sir Count, why persecute me thus ? 

You do not love, you have never lov'd me. [She rises. 

AUBIN. 

I swear I love you, Eugenia. When once 
My wedded wife, you will not find it hard 
To treat and love me as vou ousrht to do. 

EUGENIA. 

I know myself too well. Sir Count. 

AUBIN. 

If 'twas 

Unknowingly I hurt your vanity 

By my light mien t* wards others of your sex. 

I 
Think of the fickleness, the lightness of all 

By whom I was surrounded. 

EUGENIA. 

Thou art wrong, 
Wrong, sir. I accuse you not, I blame you not : 
And think not that my 'haviour now toward you 
Originates in wounded vanity. 
Or baffled pride. No, sir, I know of nought 
That can have thus induced you to construe 
Or think from any deed of mine, that I 



56 BEATRICE OF FERRARA. [Act II. 

Eer felt a pang at any act of thine ; 
Excepting thou hast taught me that I ne'er 
Can love thee. 

AUBIN. 

Then I no longer doubt, 
Madam, some other lover holds your heart. 
Ha ! is it so ? You must learn to cmsh 
These wild and foolish feelings in oblivion, 
Once ye become my wife. 

EUGENIA. 

Count St. Aubin, 
I never can, and ne'er will be thy wife. 
The arm of power may to the altar drag, 
And helpless lay me on its steps ; but there, 
As here, my voice shall steadfastly pronounce 
The same refusal that I srive vou now. 
As long as I have strength to raise that voice, 
Against your tyranny will I appeal. 

AUBIX. 

Oh ! you will think better of this, lady. 

EUGENIA. 

Never, sir, never. I tell you boldly, 
Ay, and at once, that I would rather die, 
Were death this instant in my choice, 
Than be the wife of Philip of Aubin. 



Scene JIL] BEATRICE OF TERRA R A. 57 

AUBIN. 

Tell me, — the Duke of Mayenne hath so willed 
We wed this night, — tell me, if I postpone 
The ceremony till some future day, 
Will you but let me hope that — 

EOGENIA. 

I will not. 
Do not deceive yourself; I ne'er will be 
Your wife. 

AUBIN. 

Then, Eugenia Demenancourt, 
You seal your fate. Until we meet to-night, 
Farewell ! [He waits as if for her to speak. 

EUGENIA. 

I have nothing more to say. 

[Exeunt, on different sides. 



SCENE III. 



A magnificent Ball-room in the Hotel de Guise. The 
ball is supposed to have commenced. At the 
opening of the Scene, the rooms are crorcded with 
company, dancers, Sfc. 



58 BEATRICE OF FERRARA. [Act II, 

The Scene is so arranged, that three or four win- 
dows can be thrown open at the back, to exhibit 
a view of Paris. Curtains are hung before them 
at the commencement of the Scene. 
A Dance. 

At the e?id of the Dance, the Duchess of Montpen- 
sier, the Duke of Mayenne, and Eugenia come 
forward. 

duchess. 

No power can make her change her dull attire. 

Speak to her, Charles. 

MAYENNE. 

Nay, let her wear 



What dress she will. 



It must not be. 



DUCHESS. 

But it is ominous 



MAYENNE. 

Madam, may I persuade thee 
To change this gloomy garb but for this night. 
Tis most unusual, ungracious to appear 
At the marriage altar in the sad robe 
Of mourning. Why it looks as though ye were 
About to follow to the grave some friend, 
And not a happy bridegroom meet. 



Scene III.] BEATRICE OF FERRARA. 59 

DUCHESS. 

Tis so. 

EUGENIA. 

Duke of Mayenne, I must not change this garb. 
The robe of mourning suits me best, 
When you would drag me to a fate, 
Compared with which the grave itself were joy. 

[They retire. 

[The Dance recommences. After some time, a dis- 
tant peal of artillery is heard. The Dancers 
pause, as if to listen. Afo sound is heard: the 
dancing continues. A loud discharge of artil- 
lery is heard. All start. The dancing stops. 
St. Aubin enters during the Dance. 

Albert de Wolfstrom rushes in. 

ALBERT. 

King Henry, with a powerful force, is now 

Without the walls ! [Great confusion ensues. 

MAYENNE. 

Fear not, my noble friends ; 
All will be safe. With thy assistance, Count, 
We'll drive this Henry and his Huguenots back. 
We must postpone thy nuptials. 



60 BEATRICE OF FERRARA. [An II. 

EUGENIA. 

Thanks, Heaven ! 
\A nearer and louder discharge of artillery is heard. 
The greatest confusion ensues ; some of the guests 
hurry off ; the windows are thrown open ; the 
city of Paris is seen by moonlight ; shells, bombs. 
Sfc. appear to be falling in the distance ; drums 
heard beating to arms in the street. The tocsin 
is heard ringing. 

AUBIN. 

Duke of Mayenne, King Henry seems about 
To keep the oath he swore this day. My lord, 
I need not say that I keep mine. 

MAYENNE. 

Sir Count, 
There is no time to wed this night. 

AUBIN. 

Then make 
The lady sign the contract. A few hours, 
When we return victorious, I will make 
Eugenia mine. • 

EUGENIA. 

May that hour never come ! 
\The room is now entirely deserted by the guests. 



Scene III] BEATRICE OF FERRARA. (jl 

MAYENNE. 

Madam, it grieves me much to say, motives 
Imperative of state necessity 
Compel me to require your signature 
Here, to this contract of marriage 'twixt you 
And Philip Count Aubin. 

EUGENIA. 

Duke of Mayenne, never ! 

MAYENNE. 

In truth, Aubin, this should not go forward. 

AUBIN. 

Then farewell ! 

MAYENNE. 

Madam, I insist ye sign. 

EUGENIA. 

Oh! spare me. 

MAYENNE. 

Sign, woman. 

EUGENIA. 

Help! 
[Mayenne seizes her hand: she signs the contract. 

MAYENNE. 

It is done. 
Sir Count, here is the contract signed. 



62 BEATRICE OF FERRARA. [Act II. 

EUGENIA. 

Cowards ! Oh ! I faint. 

MAYENNE. 

Now follow me, Aubin. 

AUBIN. 

Madam, farewell ! 
[Exeunt Aubin, Mayenne, and Wolfstrom. 
eugenia (alone). 
Oh, may we never meet again ! Lost ! lost ! 
Undone for ever ! Oh, false Beatrice ! 
Where art thou now ? \_Weeps. 

[Beatrice of Ferrara, still disguised as a Page, 
enters at the further end of the room ,• she 
rushes up to Eugenia. 

eugenia (screams). 

Approach me not ! 
[Beatrice takes off her hat ; Eugenia rushes to her. 

EUGENIA. 

Oh, 
Beatrice ! why didst thou not come sooner ? 

BEATRICE. 

We must not lose a moment. The frightened guests 
Are leaving the hotel. Midst the throng 
We shall escape : — nay, faint not, Eugenia ; 



Scene III.] BEATRICE OF FERRARA. 63 

Within an hour thou shalt be safe. Tell me, 
Where is Aubin ? 

EUGENIA. 

Gone to the battle ; gone 
With Mayenne. 

BEATRICE, 

We must make speed : never fear. 

[Exeunt, 



EXD OF THE SECOND ACT. 



64 BEATRICE OF FERRARA. [Act HI. 



ACT III. 

SCENE I. 

A Garden in the Chateau de Guery, belonging to 
Beatrice, near St. Cloud. 

Enter Beatrice and Eugenia. 

EUGENIA. 

Thou art in jest," Beatrice? 

BEATRICE. 

I am not ! 
I would I were ; but Fate has willed it so :— 
We part, sweet friend, and most like for ever. 

EUGENIA. 

We part! Nay, Beatrice; but how is this? 

BEATRICE. 

Why thus. You go forthwith to my chateau, 
Within a league of us ; there, this same night, 
The Marquis of St. Real will implore the hand 
Of Eugenia Demenancourt. Blush not ! 
It is no jest ; for part must we this day : 



Scene L] BEATRICE OF FERRARA. Q5 

I for ray native land, mine Italy, 

From whence, most like, I never shall return. 

EUGENIA. 

But dost thou go alone, my Beatrice ? 

BEATRICE. 

Nay ; as the wife of Philip of Aubin, 
I shall not go alone — 

EUGENIA. 

Thou art not mad ! 
Dear Beatrice, jest not with the dead. 

BEATRICE. 

The dead ! the living, Eugenia. Aubin 
Is both alive and well, here in my house. 
Be secret as the grave ; for if 'twere known, 
His life were forfeit. 

EUGENIA. 

How was it 
That he came here ? 

BEATRICE. 

On the night that we fled 
From Duke Mayenne's power — 

EUGENIA. 

That dreadful night ! 

F 



66 



BEATRICE OE FERRARA. 



[Act III. 



BEATRICE. 

Scarce had I placed you in St. Real's hands, 
Ere with Marcel I sought the battle-field. 
The morning broke as Henry drew his troops 
Back to St. Cloud, o'er come by the great strength 
Of the more numerous army of the League. 
There midst the dying and the dead I moved, 
Seeking the corpse of him I thought no more : 
When, to my utmost horror, I beheld 
One of those fell monsters, plunderers of the dead, 
Bending across the body of Aubin, 
Who there, reft of all sense and feeling, lay. 
Unbuckling the splendid surcoat that he wore, 
I saw the wretch proceed to feel his heart, 
If that its throbbing were all still. Then, — then, 
Fearing that the dying man might yet revive, 
He drew his dagger, and with upraised arm 
Was 'bout to strike the senseless Aubin dead ; 
When I in madd'ning desperation rushed, 
And with a blow of this stiletto's point 
Stretched him across the faint and prostrate man 
He'd been so nigh to kill — 

EUGENIA. 

You saved his life ! 



Scene L] BEATRICE OF FERRARA. 67 

You saved his life ! 

BEATRICE. 

I did, I did. We then 
Had Aubin secretly conveyed by night 
Here to my chateau. For a time we thought 
That he was dead — 

EUGENIA. 

Again you saved his life ! 

BEATRICE. 

Beside his couch I watched, for two long weeks, 
From day to day, from weary hour to hour : 
There, in a cold and death-like trance he lay, 
Till at length they told me all was o'er. 
Hope then forsook my almost breaking heart, 
When I beheld the priests prepare the last, 
Sad, solemn rite they to the dying give : 
Kneeling at his feet, as I thought, I took 
My last sad look of him I loved so well. 
When Aubin wildly gazed around the room ; 
An effort made again to speak, and failed ; 
Then closed his eyes, whilst murmur'd on his lips 
The name of Beatrice. Eugenia ! 
When that one word, — that word, — that Beatrice, 

p 2 



68 BEATRICE OF FERRARA. [Act 111. 

Spoke by a voice so long unheard, struck on 
The ear of her for whom that sound was meant, 
I raised my streaming eyes, beheld the change 
That there so soon had taken place ; then gazed 
For a short instant full of trembling doubt, 
And seeing it was true, — all true, quite true, — 
I swooned, and senseless lay at Aubin*s feet. 

EUGENIA. 

And he recovered ? 

BEATRICE. 

From that day so fast, 
I almost tremble when I think on it ; 
And that he loves me now I have no doubt. 
The hour that I become his bride, — that hour 
We part for Italy. How soon 'twill be 
I know not ; but therefore have I written 
To bid St. Real meet you, as I said, 
This night. I shall not leave this place 
Till he calls you his bride. 

EUGENIA. 

Oh, Beatrice ! 

BEATRICE. 

And ere we part, I have a gift for thee, 



Scene JL] BEATRICE OF FERRARA. 69 

A fond remembrance. Thou'lt think of me 
When in a distant land. A few short years, 



Again we'll meet. 



EUGENIA. 

I fear we never shall. 



[Exeunt. 



SCENE II. 

A Chamber in the interior of 'the Chateau. The Count 
St. Aubin is discovered on a couch. Albert de 
Wolfstrom beside him. 

albert. 
They say that Beatrice of Eerrara, 
In the habit of a page, lent her aid, 
And was with Eugenia the night that she 
Escaped from the Hotel de Guise. 

AUBIN. 



Indeed ! 



ALBERT. 

Since then all trace is lost of her. 

AUBIN. 



Albert, 






70 BEATRICE OF FERRARA. [Act III. 



And if ye find her, we shall never wed. 
She loves me not, and since we met, my heart 
Hath also changed its service. I am now 
With my first love, the only one that e'er 
Had power or real right to call me slave. 

ALBERT. 

Thou wilt not wed the Princess ? 

AUBIN. 

That will I. 

ALBERT. 

Then never enter Paris. Oh ! to think 
Upon the gay jests and the ribald laugh 
That will re-echo when they hear of this. 

ATJBIN. 

Go to. What mean you, sir? These are strange words. 

ALBERT. 

Not so strange as true : she hath beguiled thee. 
No doubt you deem the woman pure and kind, 
Who for a wild freak followed you about 
From camp to camp. Why, I have heard that in 

The time of the late Queen, she was wont Nay, 

They hold the marriage tie in Italy 

Not quite so binding. But your pardon, sir, 

I fear I speak too boldly. I offend ; 



Scene f I.] BEATRICE OF FERRARA. 71 

And yet I only meant to serve you. See, 
The lady comes. Love her, love her, Sir Count, 
But never wed her. I gave that same advice 
"Pis now three years — 

aubin (rising off the couch). 

I ever deem'd her pure 
As falling snow, ere it hath touched the earth. 

Enter Beatrice ; Albert bows to her ; she watches 
him till he retires, then turns hastily to Aubin. 

BEATRICE. 

Aubin, who is that man? 

AUBIN. 

The German Count. 
Sir Albert de Wolfstrom. 

BEATRICE. 

I know him well. 
Wilt thou believe, Aubin, that man once dared — 

AUBIN. 

Nay, tell me not what he once dared ; but say, 
Beatrice, love we not one the other ? 

BEATRICE. 

We do ; we do. 

AUBIN. 

Now hear me, while I swear 



72 BEATRICE OF FERRARA. [Act III. 

With my whole heart and soul I love, adore, 
And worship you, with the deepest, truest, 
Most lasting love, — hetter than aught on earth ! 
Ay, that for thee I now am willing 
To abandon friends, country, station, all — 
All for thee. 

BEATRICE. 

Mother of Heaven ! there is no need 
For such a sacrifice. 

AUBIX. 

If there should be, 
Remember I have sworn to make it. 
Where'er you chance to roam, my Beatrice, 
Henceforth shall be my country ; where'er you dwell, 
Henceforth shall be my home. There's nought but I 
Will sacrifice without regret for you. 
Tell me, dost thou love me with this same love '? 

BEATRICE. 

Can you doubt it, Philip ? can you doubt it? 

AUBIN. 

Vain idle ceremonies, worthless ties, 
May bind together the cold and careless hands, 
The unimpassioned hearts of the world's slaves ; 
But 'twixt thy heart and mine, my Beatrice. 



Scene II. J BEATRICE OF FERRARA. 73 

There shall exist a tie dearer and purer, 

Nobler and far more lasting ; and we will know 

None other. 

BEATRICE. 

What dost thou mean, Aubin? 

AUBIN. 

Need we a mere idle ceremony ? 

Doubt'st thou my love ? Must your constancy faint, 

Unless supported by a paltry form '? 

Is your love so weak, that when I ready am 

To resign all, — ay, my dear native land, 

For thee, thou wilt not the sacrifice make 

Of a mere name for me ? 

BEATRICE. 

[Disengaging herself violently from his grasp.. 
Out of my sight, viper ! Oh God ! oh God ! 
Ne'er let woman, henceforth and for ever, 
Love that deceitful reptile man again ! 
Nay, but let her rather forsake, forswear, 
And trample upon that black thing, — his heart, 
Sport with his torture, and deceive his love ; 
Betray his confidence, mislead and hate him, 
Till truth or faith he know not where to find 
In all the world : for from the moment 



74 BEATRICE OF FERRARA. [Act III. 

That he believes her true, or kind, or his, 
He turns a deadly serpent, which would sting 
And poison for her the feelings and the life, 
The happiness, the all, she would devote 
Too readily to him for ever. Out — 
Out of my sight, villain ! Why linger here ? 

AUBIN. 

Hear me ! — hear me ! I meant not to offend. 
I am no villain ; I meant but — 

BEATRICE. 

Villain ! 
Art thou no villain ? Thou, borne dying 
Into my house; treated with love, cherished, 
Befriended, protected, rescued from death ? 
Thou art no villain, who thus could turn 
And strive to ruin her who saved thee once ? 
Out on thee, man ! I would not be the base 
Ungen'rous thing thou art, for all the power 
And wealth that ever crowned a Caesar yet ! 

AUBIX. 

But hear me : — be mine on any terms. 
I did but think that Beatrice of Ferrara 
More liberal, more unprejudiced was, 
Than our vain idle crowd of courtly dames, 



Scene II.] BEATRICE OF FERRARA. 75 

Who but insist upon the marriage vow 
To break it, one and all, within the hour 
They swore to keep it, rather than that vow 
Which bind the heart, not hands — 

BEATRICE. 

Say no more, sir ! 
Those last words were quite enough, if all 
The rest were not. So, sir, you did but think — 
You did but think that Beatrice of Ferrara 
Was too liberal, too unprejudiced, 
To hold her honour as a jewel bright, 
Without the which life is but bitterness 
And woe. You did but think, that because to save, 
To reclaim, and to elevate a man 
She thought not wholly lost, she braved opinion, 
And, firm in her own truth, set the world's 
Maxims at defiance. You did but think 
She had forgotten virtue, — ay, and shame, 
In her mad love for Philip of Aubin, 
And for his sake would trample on the one, 
As she had spurned the other ! 

AUBIN. 

Beatrice, on mine knee I supplicate. 

BEATRICE. 

Rise, Count St. Aubin, I command you do, \A pause. 



76 BEATRICE OF FERRARA. [Act III. 

Sir Count, when first to me you talked of love, 

I knew you to be foolish, young, and light. 

But 'neath those gaieties and follies wild, 

I thought there hidden lay feelings more deep, 

Better aspirations, and a nobler soul. 

I heard of vices that I ne'er believed, 

For in your language and your mien toward me, 

Much was there that gave rise to better hopes. 

Deeper offences came, — I name them not, — 

Nor all the weakness of a woman's heart 

Had taught me to believe : Love clings to Hope, 

And slowly breaks its grasp. In a battle, 

Wherein I had assurance you would fail, 

With one attendant I watch'd you to the field, 

Bescu'd you in the hour of extreme need, 

And bore you wounded, dying as we thought, 

Here to my dwelling. Then, like a sister, 

Tended you night and day, till all hope was lost 

And then I wept for you as never sister 

Wept for brother yet. Against all hope, 

All calculation, you recovered ; 

Saw how deep, how powerful, how strong, my love 

Toward you was ; taught me to give full scope 

To that wild love ; and now hast ended all 

By proving to me, — a most bitter truth, — 



Scene II.] BEATRICE OE EERRARA. 77 

That kindness, like the spring sun shining on 
A torpid snake, but re-awakes your venom 
With your strength; that you look upon the love 
Of woman, hut as the means of injuring her ; 
That kind deeds but hire you to ingratitude ; 
And that, though capable of passion. 
Ye are incapable of love. Now, sir. 
Thus convinced, again I bid you quit me. 
And for ever. Nor time nor circumstance 
Will change the vow I make, to banish you 
For ever from my thoughts ; for, sir, I swear 
Beatrice of Ferrara would sooner die 
Than wed the man she has been taught so well. 
So thoroughly, so bitterly to despi— 
Ay, even though he offered now to lay 
An Emperor's diadem at her fe 

AUBI>~. 

Beatrice, again I do entreat — implore ! 

BEATRICE. 

No more. Count St. Aubin. I will hear no more. 
It is time, sir, you quit the woman 
You have so basely wronged. Farewell. 
My servants shall protect and guide you 
On your way, should you protection need ; 



i 



78 BEATRICE OF FERRARA. [Act HI. 

And never dare to cross the threshold 
Of my house, once you have quitted it, 
As never shall a thought of you, vile one, 
Enter the heart of Beatrice again. 

ALB IN. 

Lady, your command shall he obeyed. 

As to protection, I need it not. 

Fare you well, Princess of Ferrara, 

With thanks for the kindness you showed me once ; 

And with silence, if it must he so, 

For the harshness you bare me now. Yet — 

Yet I could wish to be heard — 

BEATRICE. 

No more ! 
Not a word more. Farewell. 

[Points to the door, curtsies as Aubin retires ; 
then, after a pause, 

That he should dare 
The words of shame to whisper in mine ear ! 
The vile sophisms of guilt and infamy ! 
That he should dare to dream that I, — 
I who have stood alone in the midst 
Of a vicious, depraved, abandoned court, 
The wonder and the hatred of them all, — 



Scene 11.} BEATRICE OF FERRARA. 79 

That I should e'er become his paramour ! 

To bear no other title than the vile 

Italian Mistress of the gay Aubin ! 

Weak woman that I am ! 'Tis mine own fault ! 

No doubt, no doubt he thought that she who could 

Go masquerading in a man's attire, 

And herd with grooms and horseboys for his sake ; 

That she who could boldly come and go 

Oft through the gates of a beleaguered town, 

At risk of question and discovery ; 

Bind up his wounds with her own hand, and watch 

Beside his sick couch many a long hour, 

He thought would surely nothing him refuse, — 

No, not her honour. Why, for aught I know, 

In his profligate heart he scoffs and jeers 

At the mere thought of my fastidiousness, 

Ay, and now holds me as some light wanton. 

Out on him ! out on him ! Did he but know 

The heart he tramples on ! [Falls weeping in the chair. 

Enter Marcel. 
Marcel. 

The Count Aubin 
Entreats that you will see him, ere he quits 



80 BEATRICE OF FERRARA. [Act III. 

Your house. He'll wait, should you so will it. 
Your pleasure ? 

BEATRICE. 

Never ! Acquaint the Count St. Aubin 
That he or I within this hour must quit 
This house. Then follow to my chamber. 

[Exeunt, different ways. 



SCENE III. 

Gardens of the Chateau. 

Enter Aubin. 



aubin. 
I would return, but for the look of scorn 
She flung on me. I could endure her wrath ; 
But her contempt never ! 

Enter Albert de Wolfstrom. 

The fiend have thee, 
Albert de Wolfstrom ! thou hast ruined me, 
Lost me a bride ! Thy foul advice at once 
Her proud Italian spirit so inflamed, 
I almost feared — 



Scene HI.] BEATRICE OF FERRARA. 81 

ALBERT. 

I see she is enraged. 
She will come round ; and if she does not, why 
There is another yet. 

AUBIN. 

Whom dost thou mean ? 

ALBERT. 

I have a clue where Eugenia is hid. 

Enter Armandi at the back of the stage : he listens. 

Think you, St. Aubin, that a maiden fair, 

All gentleness, all sweetness, so timid, 

Could in a moment change into a thing 

Stern and resolute as a warrior knight, 

Without some very potent magic art ? 

Think, — could she alone find the means to cheat 

The keen and hard-judging Duke Mayenne ? 

Could she escape from a beleaguered town, 

Where on her ever were a thousand eyes, 

By the simple means of her own courage, 

Ingenuity, and daring ? Never ! 

St. Aubin, Eugenia loved you, — loves you, — 

Ay, will love you still ; and now only weeps 

The perfidy Beatrice of Eerrara 

G 



82 BEATRICE OF FERRARA. [Act 111. 






Taught her to credit you had shown toward her. 

Had she not learned to think, from the first hour 

» 

That she set foot in Paris, that your heart 

Was to the Lady Beatrice given, 

And that you sought her hand but for her wealth, 

She would at once, upon her father's death, 

Have claimed your safe protection. Doubt me not, 

When I tell you, that from Mayenne her flight 

Was to the fertile brain and daring courage 

Of Beatrice of Ferrara due. She 'twas 

Who robbed you of your bride ; who now 

Conceals the maid within a league from hence, 

Weeping to think Philip of Aubin false, 

And vowing, when she hears that he is wed, 

To seek a convent's shade. 

AUBIN. 

Oh, this is brave ! 
Why yon proud, scornful dame shall find, Aubin 
Can seek a mate as lovely as herself. 

ALBERT. 

Of that fair one, if you would gain the heart, 
Spare no entreaty, no persuasion lose. 
Act as she were your wife, till she is safe 
In your own chateau. Seek her not alone ; 



Scene 111.] BKATKICK OF FERRARA. #3 

Stir not a step, unless you have at least 
Fifty brave horsemen at your beck. 

AUBI.X. 

At once, 
I'll carry her off at once. 

ALBERT. 

Bravely said, 
Sir Count. Unasked you have my aid. 

AUBIN. 

Thanks, thanks. 
There's nought to do, but to mount fifty men 
And no time lose. The keenest eye in France 
Is on us both : she may be soon removed. 

[Exit Armakdi. 

ALBERT. 

Of course, thou'lt give my soldiers a day's hire. 

AUBIN. 

Ay, and to thee a thousand crowns to boot, 
An we succeed. 

ALBERT. 

We shall, I warrant you. 

[Exeunt. 



g 2 



84 BEATRICE OF FERRARA. [Act III. 

SCENE IV. 

The Chamber of Beatrice in the Chateau. Beatrice 
is discovered seated at a table. 

BEATRICE. 

'Tis o'er ! The joys of life, — the dreams, the hopes, 
And all the bright thoughts of a happy heart, — 
Are blasted, wither'd, shrivelled up, and dead ! 
The mother, who has watch' d from year to year 
Her one, her only boy, — e'en from the hour 
She clasped him to her heart in childhood's prime 
Till she beheld him at her side a man, — 
Her darling pride, her first-born, and her all ; 
Then in that self-same moment seen him fall 
Senseless and crushed by some dire thunderbolt, 
Some great calamity, some dreadful blow, 
Dead, dead at her feet, feels not more lost, 
More mad, more desolate than I do now ! 

Enter Marcel, 
marcel. 
As you desired, I wait your bidding here. \_A pause. 
The Count St. Aubin departed, lady, 



Scene IV.] BEATRICE OF FERRARA. 85 

Alone and unattended on his route 
But now. 

Beatrice (abstractedly). 
Did he— did he — Marcel ? 

MARCEL. 

Princess — 

BEATRICE. 

For twelve long years have I sojourned here, 
In this fair realm of France ; but now my stay 
Draws toward a close. The one, that last dear tie 
That bound me to this place, is broken now. 
Oh, my soul yearns for my native land ! 
I will tread back my way to Italy. 

MARCEL. 

To Italy ! once more to Italy ! 

Did I not tell thee, lady, at the time 

When first you fixed your love on one, whose name 

I dare not now pronounce, so much I hate 

The base and coward — 

Beatrice [angrily . 

Knave, thou'rt somewhat bold. 
marcel. 
Pardon me, noble mistress, I had forgot 
That Armandi implores to speak with thee. 



86 BEATRICE OF FERRARA. [Act UL 

BEATRICE. 

Arniandi? Let him enter. 

"Marcel beckons to Armaftdi, rcho enters. 

ARMANDI. 

Noble lady, my heart's been ill at ease 

Since thon obtain' dst that deadly drug from me. 

My sins are great, but never yet did I 

Sell poison to Italian. Oh. give back 

The drug to thy poor servant, and the ring 

Thou gav'st him for it shall be thine again. 

BEATRICE. 

Was it some angel sent thee here, to snatch 
This curs' d temptation from my trembling hand ? 
Thy poison shall be thine once more — 
[During the above speech, Armandi n-hisjiers to Mar- 
cel, rcho turns suddenly to Beatrice, and exclaims 
marcel. 

Lady ! 
The Count St Aubin— 

BEATRICE. 

Oh God ! what of him ? 

MARCEL. 

Is on liis way to carry off the fair 
Ensenia Demenancourt — 



Scene IV.] BEATRICE OF FEKRARA. 87 

BEATRICE. 

Speak, Armandi. 
What is all this ? 

ARMANDI. 

But now I overheard 
That he, with fifty men, this night surrounds 
The chateau, where the noble maid is hid. 
He purposes to bear her off — 

BEATRICE. 

Oh God ! [A pause. 

There are no other means. Marcel, fly thou ; 
Haste to the camp of Henry of Navarre. 

[Writes on a paper at the table. 
Give him this paper. Say that that vile traitor, 
The Count Aubin, is now about to — to — to — 

Tell him You know what I would say. 

[Exit Marcel. 

BEATRICE. 

Armandi, 
Follow me. God, if we should prove too late ! 

ARMANDI. 

Lady, the poison — 

BEATRICE. 

He would carry off 
The poor frightened bird from the dovecote ! 



88. BEATRICE OF FERRARA. [Act III. 

ARMANDI. 

But the poison — 

BEATRICE. 

Oh, we must speed, — must speed, 
Ere the kite can pounce upon its prey — 

ARMANDI. 

But 
The poison, Princess — 

BEATRICE. 

Armandi, follow me. 

[Exeunt. 



SCENE V. 

A gothic Chamber. At the back, a large window 
opening to the ground; a grove of trees is seen 
beyond, the moon shining in at the window. The 
stage is rather dark. Eugenia is discovered 
watching at the rvindow. 

EUGENIA. 

Midnight is passed. From hour to hour I watch : 
My heavy eyes their weary task refuse. 
St. Real ! He comes ! 



Scene F.] BEATRICE OF FERRARA. 89 

Enter Aibin, (Eugenia screams . 

AUBIN. 

My fairest bride, at length we meet — 

EUGENIA. 

No, no ! 
Call me not thy bride ! Nay. death were better, 
A far more preferable fate than that. 

aubin (seizing eugenia by the arm. 

Stay, madam. The chateau is surrounded 

On all sides by my troops. I would 

My bride should willingly and tranquilly 

Come with me to my home : and not draw down 

The harsh compulsion which I have the right 

And power to treat her with. "Wilt thou hear me ? 

eugenia [struggling . 
Never, never ! 

AUBIN. 

There are a hundred men without, 
And ready to obey my slightest word. 
Shall I call them, madam? 

eugenia jveepbig). 

Oh. no ! no ! no ! 
"What will become of me ! what shall I do ! 



90 BEATRICE OF FERRARA. [Act III. 

aubin. 
But listen to me, ador'd Eugenia. 
I thought 'twas mere caprice that made you look 
So coldly on me. Now I know it all. 
'Twas just, "twas excellent, 'twas wise, — 
'Twas like yourself; for well ye were deceived : 
We both have been misled, deceived — 

EUGENIA. 

Indeed ! 
I know not what you mean. 

AUBIN. 

Thou hast been wronged ; 
Thou hast been cheated, — vilely, grossly wronged; 
Taught to believe a man, who loved ye with 
The deepest passion e'er swayed mortal yet, 
A heartless profligate — 

EUGENIA. 

I am grieved, sir — 

AUBIN. 

I'll tell you all the base and crooked means 
That have been set in work to make you hate me : 
Then say if it be right and just those means 
Should still their influence exert o'er you. 



Scene F.] BEATRICE OF FERRARA. 91 

One of the late Queen Catharine's train of dames, — 

[Beatrice and Armandi enter at the window. 
A train that will be marked with infamy 
To all posterity — 

EUGENIA. 

It may be so ; 
The name of Beatrice of Ferrara 
Ever excepted, — the daughter of a Prince, 
A sovereign Prince, as much distinguished for 
Her many virtues as her noble rank. 

AUBIN. 

Did she not tell you that I loved her ? 

Did she not swear full oft that I had vow'd, — 

Ay, and uttered protestations at her feet ? 

She did. I know that both by open words 

And deep insinuations, she poisoned, 

Worked on your mind against me, — taught you 

That I was both profligate and base. 

EUGENIA. 

Never ! 
Upon my soul and honour, never ! 

AUBIN. 

Nay, 
She 'twas that ever crossed me in thy heart : 



92 BEATRICE OF FERRARA. [Act III. 

She 'twas that laid the scheme that help'd your flight, — 

That with you fled from Paris. Ay, tremble now. 

Think'st thou there was no motive for all this ? 

I tell you that there was : she had loved me, 

From the first hour we met, with all the love, 

The ardour, and the fire, which the hot blood 

Of none but an Italian can inspire : 

She worshipp'd me, she persecuted me 

With her eternal love. I hated her : 

To her have I ever turned a deaf ear 

And a cold heart. I car'd not for her ; 

I lov'd her not; despised and pitied her : 

Had never lov'd, and often told her so ; 

Ay, and though I scrupled not to say it, 

But a few hours since I might have made her mine, 

Upon the vilest terms I chose — 

Beatrice (rushing forward). 
Liar ! — 
Liar ! — liar ! — [She stabs Aubin, who falls. 

AUBIN, 

Curse on you ! Curse — [He dies. 

ARMANDI. 

Fly, fly, 
Or you are lost ! Lady, you must not stay — 



Scene V.] BEATRICE OF FERRARA. 93 

[Firing of guns, clashing of swords heard without. 
King Henry, St. Eeal, and Troops rush in at 
the window. St. Real runs to Eugenia: the 
stage is lighted up. Beatrice remains gazing 
intently on Aurin's body. 

HENRY. 

AVe are in time, fair lady, your bequest 
To execute. Where is this most perverse, 
Rebellious Aubin ? 

BEATRICE. 

There — there — there he lies ! 
Xe'er to be perverse or traitor more. 
Oh Philip ! Philip ! how thou hast trampled 
On the poor wretched heart that loved thee once, 
Happiness cast from thee, destruction sought. 
And found it from a woman's hand ! 

HENRY. 

Indeed ! 
Indeed! Ay. in God's name, what is all this? 

[_A pause. 
From thine own lips, lady, I learn that thou 
This moment hast an awful act committed, 
Especially for a woman's hand. 
In arms against his King, Aubin has died ; 



94 BEATRICE OF FERRARA. [Act 111. 

Therefore this deed shall not too strictly be 
Inquired into. As it is, 'twere well, 
Lady, you quit this realm, with all 
Convenient speed. Your safety to insure, 
A party of my guard shall wait on you, 
Until you cross the frontier. Do my words 
Fall on an inattentive ear ? Lady, 
May I ask if thou hast heard me ? 

BEATRICE. 

Ay,— ay — 
I have heard, my lord. Your majesty 
Is lenient, — most lenient : my crime is great, 
Oh, very great ! But be it as ye will : 
I shall depart. — My thoughts, to say the truth, 
Are not so clear as some short half hour since, 
I thank your majesty. — Farewell. Alas ! alas ! 
Where shall I go, my lord? \_To the King. 

HENRY. 

Her brain is troubled. 
Lead her hence. 

[Beatrice leans on Armandi, and is about to 
quit the room, when she rushes back. 

BEATRICE. 

What, part us ! Who would part us ? Oh, never ! 



Scene V.] BEATRICE OF FERRARA. 95 

Philip, Philip of Aubin. He is dead, dead! 
Stay thy yet parting soul for me. I come. 
Our deeds unite us, and for ever ! 

[Takes the poison, and instantly falls by 
Aubin's body. 

HENRY. 

She swoons : 
Support her — 

ARMANDI. 

She is poisoned : she is dead ! 



END OF THE DRAMA. 



POEMS. 



poems. 99 



A SUNSET IN THE ALPS. 

From vine-clad glen, and rocky dark ravine, 
Strange wreaths of thin and floating mist were seen 
To rise ; and o'er the bosom of the lake, 
In varied shapes, their upward course to take : 
And now they hover round each mountain peak ; 
Now, higher still, the azure vault they seek ; 
So bright, so fair, fantastically strange, 
Each moment sees their countless beauties change : 
Till, painted by the setting orb, they seem 
The golden visions of a fairy dream ; 
Or troops of angels wending back their way, 
On island clouds, to heaven at close of day. 

How many a fan, a faint, and dying hue 
Of purple, ruby, and ethereal blue 
In faded glory on yon peaks repose, 
And add a softened splendour to their snows ! 
As though the rainbow had forsook the air, 
And chose the mountain side to slumber there. 



h 2 



(K) POEMS. 



IMPROMPTU. 
Sent to a Lady with a fen- Violets in early Spring. 

Wafted like incense to the skies, 
The Violet's odours upward rise 
So balmy sweet, the angels fair 
Of heaven would that flower bloom* d there. 

It once had raised its purple head 
In Eden's brightest flow'ry bed ; 
But Eve, when driven from that land, 
Bore the poor Violet in her hand. 
It was the flower she loved the most 
Of all the fair ones she had lost ; 
She lov'd it for its lowly grace, 
And took it from its dwelling-place, 
That it to her on earth might be, 
Of Paradise a memory. 
And since that time, the Violet tries 
To send its perfumes to the skies, 
That angels may recal once more 
To heaven its lost and lowly flower. 



POEMS. 101 



MALIBRAN. 

Bright sang the Queen of Song that night, 
And they who heard her magic strain, 
Enraptur'd at its eagle flight, 
Half reckless, bade her sing again. 
Once more that voice rang through the hall, 
In brilliant cadence varying fast ; 
Once more those sounds the crowd appal, 
She sang her sweetest and her last. 
One effort, — 'twas a dying one, 
A look of fire ; she droop'd her head ; 
The hour of triumph then was done ; 
A few short days, and life had fled. 
A few short days ? How sad her fate ! 
The stranger hands that plaudits gave, 
The self-same crowd,- — the rich, — the great, 
Conduct their idol to her grave ! 



102 POEMS. 

The flowers which at her feet they laid,* 
And the fair wreath that crowned her brow, 
Have scarcely yet begun to fade : 
Alas I where is the wearer now ? 
Where is the charmed voice that flung 
Enchanted melody around, 
- Like harps by angel-fingers strung, 
So wild, — unearthly was the sound, 
So strange and thrilling was the cry ? 
And while it echoed through the air 
She smiled : — it was in agony, 
Her proudest triumph in despair. 
Though Death's cold grasp her heart o'erspread, 
The world, she thought, should never say 
The voice that such sweet music shed, 
Could ever change or know decay. 
All former efforts she outvied ; 
Then breath'd a sigh that seem'd to tell, 
As on her lips the music died, 
To her lov'd art — a long farewell ! 
'Twas such an aching mournful sigh 
A fallen seraph, weeping o'er 

* These lines were written a few clays after the death of the 
unfortunate Malibran. 






POEMS. 103 

The lyre that he had woke on high, 

Might breathe, — when it will wake no more. 

Sweet child of genius I hard thy fate, 

So young, — so beautiful to die ; 

Left in thy sorrow desolate, 

And scarce a kindred mourner nigh, 

To watch the last dark hours of one, 

Whose destiny on earth was o'er ; 

Whose meteor-course of fame was run, 

Whose star had set, — to rise no more ! 



104 POEMS, 



THE OUTWARD-BOUND. 

I. 

Beneath the blue and burning sky 
With the blue wave, nought else around, 
Away doth boldly speed, — doth fly, 
The brave, the gallant Outward-bound. 
There 's one I love, — and now from me 
He 's borne afar, — oh ! far away : 
The boundless sky and boundless sea, 
Are all he views from day to day. 

II. 

The sultry hours pass slowly on, 
He thinks the sun will never set ; 
That night may come, and he alone 
Walk the still deck, and sadly yet 
On the ship's side at eve may bend ; 
And, gazing once more t'ward his home, 
O'er the wide waves a blessing send, 
To those from whom he 's doom'd to roam. 



POEMS. 105 



III. 



In the burning clime he 's bound to, 

When a wanderer 'neath its sun, 
And his eyes are cast around to 

Seek a shelter, — finding none ; 
Then will he think once more of all 
He 's left behind and home would be : 
And theu dear Memory may recal, 
One passing thought, — mayhap of me. 



IV. 

Oft think I on those hours now gone, 
The morning that he left me ; 

And of the gay, — the much-lov'd one, 
That gloomy day bereft me. 

For if we ever meet again, 

Alas ! how changed we both shall be ; 

The boys that parted changed to men, 

Perhaps his feelings changed to me. 



106 POEMS. 



V. 



Away, away ! such thoughts were mad ! 
Though years must pass before we meet, 
He '11 love me still ; it were too sad 
Our youthful days should prove a cheat. 
Though other ties be snapp'd in twain, 
And those we both lov'd long be gone ; 
As we did part, we'll meet again, 
With none of our affection flown. 



VI. 



Oh, good ship, speed ! soon reach the land 
The wanderer seeks ; and may he find 
As true a friend, with welcome hand, 
As the sad one he 's left behind ! 
Now fly, ship, fly ! soon gain the shore ; 
Through all thy sails a fair wind sound ; 
No storm or danger meet thee more, 
And Heaven speed the Outward-bound ! 



POEMS. L()7 



THE ROSE-BUD AND THE BEE. 

A FABLE. 

A full-blown Rose, in rich perfume, 
Its crimson leaves in perfect bloom, 
A blushing Rose-bud, steep'd in dew, 
On the same tree in beauty grew. 

The Bud was envious ; she aspir'd 
To, like her sister, be admir'd ; 
None mark'd her beauty, or her grace, 
Yet all ador'd the sister's face, 
Who smiles beneath the silken wings 
The Butterfly around her flings. 
The Bud, unnotic'd, is forgot, 
And weeps in silence o'er her lot. 

The full-blown Rose was blooming there. 
The Bud was drooping in despair ; 



108 POEMS. 

The full-blown Rose, in all her pride, 
Smiled on her sister at her side: 
The foolish Rose-bud raised her head, 
With grief and envy almost dead ; * 
She saw her sister merrily 
Coquetting with a Honey-bee. 

It was too much ; for he had been 
By all the flow r ers and buds she knew, 
The Rose-bud's earliest lover seen ; 
And, jealous now, she bolder grew, 
And was about to cry out "Shame!" 
When stormy winds untimely came, 
And scatter'd quickly all around 
The full-blown Roses to the ground. 

The storm was o'er ; its rage was past ; 
Yet, ere it went, it kindly cast 
Of rain-drops a rich diadem, 
And many a bright and glist'ning gem, 
Upon the Rose-bud and her stem. 

Away flew Bee; but soon returned, 
And at the Rose-bud's lips he burned : 



POEMS. 109 



He now implores she will disclose 
Her graces, like the full-blown Rose, 
" No, no, sir!" haughtily she said, 
And coldly bow'd her lovely head ; 
" I have been taught, and not too late, 
That if I do, — I share her fate." 



THK END. 



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